Fear Familiar Bundle (15 page)

"Okay," she agreed. "I have a secondary plan. Medical attention, but no doctor. On the condition that you promise to go to the hospital, if Dr. Curry says so."

"Dr. Curry?" Joey looked at her as the car burst from the garage into the rain.

"A veterinarian."

Joey grinned. "Cool! I don't mind going to a vet."

"I only hope Peter doesn't mind me bringing you," she said.

The waiting room at the clinic was filled with pet owners and their animals, but as soon as Eleanor gave her name, she was ushered back to Peter's office.

Startled by the receptionist's description of Eleanor and a bloody young man, Peter rushed into the office. He took one look at Joey, who was sitting in the chair, clearly doing his best to mask his pain, and his hands went to Eleanor's shoulders. "Are you okay?" The sight of the blood and the whiteness of her face struck him with a sudden terror. She was at risk. There was a spot of blood on her skirt and her hands were smeared.

The same anger he'd felt the first day he saw her with her face cut and bruised came back to him, only much stronger. "Who did this?"

"I'm fine." She fought to control her shaking, offering a tentative smile. In Peter's angry reaction she saw his concern. A tiny pop, like the opening of a bottle of exquisite champagne, sounded in her heart. No one had ever cared about her the way Peter did. It was written all over his face. Taking a deep breath, she explained about the accident. "Would you look at Joey's leg?" she asked.

By the time she finished, Peter was much calmer. She wasn't hurt, and his heartbeat had returned to a reasonable pace. "I'm not a doctor," he reminded her. "I don't mind treating a bruise or scrape, but I…"

"Joey's promised to go to the hospital, if you say so."

"Okay," Peter agreed. "If you promise me that
you
aren't injured." The tenderness was fading from his eyes, but it was still audible in his voice.

"I promise, and I'll wait outside." Eleanor excused herself while Peter tended to Joey's injuries.

She washed her hands and rinsed the blood from her skirt in the rest room. After she'd found a seat in the waiting room, she hid behind a magazine, avoiding the curious stares of Peter's patients. But there was nothing she could do to avoid the thoughts that tumbled through her mind. Peter's unguarded concern for her was like a warm, healing touch. Safe behind the covers of a pet care magazine, she marveled at the fusion she'd felt with him. The emotion was deep, strong, a sense of connection with purpose.

She pushed the thoughts away, more than a little frightened by their implications. Focusing on the magazine, she read an article about poachers and African elephants.

"Thank goodness I don't own any ivory," she mumbled. She flipped the pages, scanning the winning entries in a pet photo contest and an article on cosmetic experimentation. A small black and white photograph circled several times in black ink at the bottom of the page caught her eye. A handcuffed man was being led away by two uniformed policemen.

Something about the picture was familiar, and she stared at the grainy photo. The caption explained that the photo date was 1977, and there was only a short blurb. The man in the photo, Arnold Evans, had been arrested on charges of animal abuse. He'd skipped bail and was still at large thirteen years later. The story was an update, noting that Evans had last been seen in May 1988 on a safari in Kenya.

The story meant nothing to Eleanor, but she was strangely drawn to the photograph. She studied it carefully and finally smiled. The man bore a strange resemblance to someone she knew or had met.

It was nearly half an hour later when Peter called her back into the his office.

"Is he hurt?" she asked.

"He's young— and lucky. Nothing worse than a scrape. I gave him some Betadine to wash his leg and some bandages. And a long lecture about hanging out in parking garages." Peter smiled, relief evident in his face. "He'll be healed in a matter of days."

"Thanks, Peter," she said. "I was so scared in the parking lot. I was terrified. I heard him following me, and I saw him behind me, and I lost it. I knew I hit him, but I couldn't stop immediately." As she recounted the experience, her voice rose. She felt her legs begin to tremble again.

"Why were you so afraid, Eleanor?" Peter brushed a hand across her forehead. "Did something else happen in the garage?"

Peter's question caught her off guard, and she knew that now she was ready to confide in him. "I need to talk with you, Peter. Tonight. Could you meet me about seven, or as soon as you finish here?"

"Of course." He stroked her hair, pushing it back from her face. With a gentle finger he lifted her chin so that their gazes met. "I've been waiting for you to tell me." Her dark gaze promised so much that it was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms.

"I know," she said, and her voice was throaty. "I wanted to tell you, but it's so complicated. And it's going to sound crazy."

He shook his head. "Not to me."

"Doc, how long will it be before I'm completely well?" Joey asked. He hobbled over to them at the doorway.

Peter's hand dropped from Eleanor's face and he took a step back. "Oh, three to five days of stiffness, then a few more days for the scrape to completely heal. Just protect it and you'll be fine."

"Thanks." Joey took Eleanor's elbow. "Could you take me back to school now? I have a science project I need to work on."

"Of course." Eleanor answered. She exchanged a look with Peter and received a knowing smile. The young man took her arm for assistance as they went through the lobby and to the car.

Watching him as she drove, she saw the determined jut of his chin.

"Is something bothering you?" she asked. "Do you need to stop for some medicine or anything?"

"No," he shook his head and turned to gaze out the window. "You're involved with that vet, aren't you?"

"Joey!" Eleanor was shocked by the question.

"You are. I can tell by the way he looks at you."

"My relationship with Dr. Curry shouldn't concern you." Eleanor slowed down to turn onto the campus. Before she could say anything else, Joey opened the car door and jumped onto the grassy curb. He slammed the door with force and limped away, his shoulders squared and stiff.

"Good grief," she murmured as she drove toward her parking space. "This is all I need." Joey was upset and too emotional. She didn't give any credence to what he'd said, but the fact that he was so distraught was terribly upsetting.

Instead of going to her own office, Eleanor went to Betty Gillette's cluttered habitat. The red-haired professor was hidden behind a stack of books, but Eleanor heard her singing.

"Knock, knock," she said at the open door.

"Eleanor!" Betty whirled and stood up. "I've been trying to call you. I had the most interesting chat with Mr. Rousel."

"And a nice dinner, I assume?" Eleanor grinned.

"How did you know?"

"I saw you. At Brenniton's. Or at least the woman looked a lot like you. Was it business or pleasure?" The question was unnecessary, because she could tell by her friend's face that the evening had been delightful.

"Well, it started out as business, but when he asked me out to eat, I began to suspect that he had ulterior motives. And I was right!"

"Congratulations," Eleanor said. "He's an attractive man. I just hope he appreciates how lucky he is that you'd spare your research time to consume food with him. I've already told him as much."

"Quit teasing me. I really like him," Betty said. "We had the best time, and believe it or not, he was interested in my research."

"I'll bet that wasn't all he was interested in," Eleanor added with raised eyebrows. "I'm delighted. It's time you had some fun."

"We're going to dinner again tonight. Alva knows this wonderful place in Virginia, and we're going to make a real evening of it. I feel like my first date."

She laughed, and Eleanor noticed that she looked like a teenager.

"I'm glad to know that having my apartment and my office trashed served some purpose. Do you mind if I ask what Rousel wanted to know about me?"

Betty's expression sobered, and Eleanor saw a cautious light touch her eyes. "Not really that much. He asked about your work. He wanted to know about your background. I couldn't help him much with that. I never realized it until he started asking questions, but I don't know anything about you, Eleanor. You grew up in Tennessee, and that's about the extent of it."

"You knew I was married," Eleanor said. Discomfort made her tuck her hands into the pockets of her skirt.

"Yes, you mentioned that. A bad marriage, as I recall."

"A fatal marriage. My husband was killed." Eleanor wasn't sure if she said that to test her own reactions or Betty's.

Remembrance lightened Betty's expression. "Now I remember. Car wreck in the mountains. I thought it was interesting that you grew up in the Smokies and lived in the Rockies and finally ended up in Washington."

"What else did Rousel ask?"

"Alva wanted to know if you were maintaining an active social life and— " she lifted both hands "— if you were an animal nut. I told him no to both questions. He did imply that he thought you'd been mixed up in some break-in at a lab, but I set him straight on that. I've never met a more law-abiding person, I told him that very clearly."

"Thanks," Eleanor said. She felt a slight turbulence in her stomach. At least Rousel hadn't gone into the sordid details of her past with Carter.

"What was that you said to me the other day about a visit from your dead husband?" Betty straightened a stack of books on her desk. "You sounded frightened."

"Someone in the parking garage startled me. I had this insane feeling that it was Carter, my ex. He talked like him, he acted like him. I must have been delirious. Carter's been dead nine years. It was just my imagination." Now Eleanor regretted blurting out that tidbit the day before, especially in view of the new relationship between Betty and Alva Rousel.

"Are you sure?" Betty probed.

"Yes, you can tell Mr. Rousel that I thought I saw a ghost, but it must have been my poor eyesight or an overactive imagination." She smiled. "Just tell Mr. Rousel that contrary to popular belief, the past is dead and buried."

Betty's brow furrowed. "Whatever that means."

"And have a wonderful evening. I'd better get busy on my own work, or you'll surely snatch that grant from under my nose."

Eleanor spent the rest of the day sorting through her office and rearranging the shelves. Although there were several expensive ceramic pieces, nothing of value appeared to be missing. She called campus security to check on the progress of the investigation, but they had no news for her. The intruder had worn gloves of some type. Without her computer it was difficult to actually work, so she finished the cleanup and prepared to go home.

The event with Joey Knight continued to nag at her. She'd never suspected the young man would have a personal interest in her. She sighed. There were times when even with the best intentions, she took the wrong course of action.

With all of the unpleasant happenings, it was good to see Betty so happy. In the two years they'd known each other, Betty had often commented on her desire for a serious relationship. Now it looked as if that wish might be coming true.

And what of her own romantic desires? The memory of Peter's concern was like an intimacy, very delicate and treasured. In that moment of magic, much had changed between them. Now the future depended on her ability to trust him enough to tell the whole truth. Trust No One was a motto she'd have to learn to discard.

She walked slowly to the parking lot, half expecting to run into an apologetic Joey. The kid was confused, and she felt a spark of guilt. Everyone but herself had seen it coming. She'd allowed the young man to spend extra time with her. She'd never realized he was developing a painful and unresolvable crush. I should have been more observant, she thought as she drove home.

To her delight, there were three empty parking spaces on the curb. No garage scenes for her. She whipped into one and hurried into the building.

"Eleanor!" Wessy called to her when she stopped at the desk to check her mail. "Come here." He motioned her into a small alcove near the door, then glanced furtively around the lobby to make sure no one could hear them.

"What is it?" she asked, an uneasy feeling creeping over her skin.

"Dr. Curry called and left a message. He didn't want anyone to hear it but you."

Eleanor's suspicions grew. Peter would never give an important message to Wessy. He didn't trust the doorman.

"When did he call?" Eleanor asked.

"About ten minutes ago. He must have missed you at the university. But he said it was urgent. He said that Magdalena Caruso had been attacked and injured. He wanted you to come to her house immediately."

"Are you sure?" Eleanor clutched her purse. Magdalena's house was across town.

"Positive. He said it was urgent."

"I'd better call," Eleanor said, hurrying to the telephone on the desk. She dumped her purse's contents onto the marble countertop and looked until she found the number Magdalena had written out for her. She dialed and got a busy signal. After three tries, she called an operator.

"The number is out of service," the operator said.

"Can you tell me why?"

"I'm sorry, but there's no way for me to tell."

"Thanks." She hung up, reassembled her purse and started out the front door.

"Be careful," Wessy called after her.

"I have to be," Eleanor shot back. She rushed back into the street, aware that the night was turning bitter once again. Even the Santa walking down the street had a sinister appearance. Everything that had once been familiar now seemed filled with fear.

T
HE FOUR PATROL CARS
parked outside Magdalena's small house, blue lights still flashing, made Eleanor doubly upset. A burly patrolman stopped her at the door, but Peter soon persuaded him to let her inside.

"Magdalena was asking for you," Peter explained. "She was almost in shock when I found her."